Come On, Wind!
Blow, Wind!
Do your stuff!
Roar and growl
and huff and puff
Shake the leaves.
Bend that tree.
You are not
too much for me!
Come on, lift me
off the ground.
Let us both
go rushing round.
Why should you
have all the fun?
Come on, wind,
help me to run
and run and run
until I rise
to join you
up there in the skies.
That's better.
Now I'm looking down.
This is the way
to see our town.
Is that our house?
Is that our car?
How very still
those people are.
But you and I ,
we swoop and dive.
We are alive ,
alive, alive!
Would mum be cross,
would dad be proud
To see me riding
on this cloud?
Perhaps it's best
they do not know.
They think it's safer
down below.
So, come on, wind
just one last roar
Then land me
outside our front door.
Watch it open,
hear mum shout
it's far too windy
to be
out!
Come on, wind!
By John Mole
John Mole is a british poet, a teacher and a musician.
Cover Art by Mary Norman.
